


Soy un Perdedor (so why don’t I mind?)

by caritivereflection



Series: 50 Ways to Get Laid in the Glade [3]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Choking, Gags, Light Bondage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Smut, Spanking, Violence, bottom!minho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caritivereflection/pseuds/caritivereflection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In every game, there has to be a loser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soy un Perdedor (so why don’t I mind?)

“Did you think I was going to let you get away with that klunk?”

Minho sighed before he looked up, tossing the stack of maps onto the table without care. Gally was at the entrance of the map room, his arms folded as he leaned against the doorjamb. His eye wasn’t swollen shut anymore, but it was still bruised a brutal purple.

“And what are you gonna do about it, Captain Gally? Get your ass kicked again?” Minho said, mimicking Gally’s posture. The other boy sneered, stepping into the room and letting the door fall shut. “You know you’re not allowed in here.”

“Because you’re such a stickler for the rules,” Gally said, not stopping his forward progression. After a few more paces, he came to a stop just out of Minho’s reach and kicked aside a chair that separated them. It fell to the floor with a clatter that echoed in the concrete room.

“I didn’t need to break any rules to beat your ass,” Minho said. “Besides, you challenged me. Don’t get your panties in a twist because you lost and can’t—”

Gally threw the first punch, and if had landed, Minho would have been in trouble. Lucky for him, he had the speed and reflexes of a Runner, and backed away, fast enough to dodge the punch. He still felt a rush of wind brush over his skin. Gally started to swing again, but Minho barreled into him, grabbing him by the waist and pushing him back toward the closed door.

Minho used his forward momentum to slam Gally into the door, but stumbled back when the other boy pushed him.

The Keeper of the Builders was one of the strongest boys in the Glade. Minho, though he sported an impressive physique of his own, was lithe compared to Gally, whose arms and chest had been defined by years of carrying heavy loads and spending hours upon hours swinging tools. He was the stronger of the two, and they both knew it.

They also knew who would win if he was allowed to use that strength to his advantage.

Minho dodged another punch and backed away. Gally stepped toward him, but mid step, Minho lashed out and kicked at his feet. It was the same move he used the other night in the fighting circle, the one that got Gally that black eye.

The Builder landed on his back and Minho wasted no time jumping on him. He straddled the other boy’s stomach and arms and swung, his right fist connecting with Gally’s cheek. Gally bucked, trying to lift Minho off with his hips and pinned arms, but the Asian boy maintained his balance. He landed another hit, this time to Gally’s chin. The pinned boy growled.

“Aww, whatsa matter, little Gally?” Minho said. “Can’t stand it when I’m winn—”

Gally twisted and got an arm free, bringing it up and slapping Minho across the face, leaving his skin red and stinging. In that moment of surprise, Minho let his guard down and Gally flipped them over, settling between the Runner’s legs.

Within seconds, the Builder’s hands were around his throat. Minho gasped, his voice gurgling as the larger boy cut off his air supply. He tried to breath again, but nothing came, and his heart sped up as his body went into panic mode. His hands gripped at Gally’s wrists, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood.

He gazed up at the volatile boy above him, and wasn’t surprised to see something between a snarl and a smile on his lips. He let go of Gally’s wrists, throwing his hands to the side to grab for something, anything. But there was nothing on the floor around them.

His third idea, and maybe one that would have worked if it had been his first, was to smack Gally in the face as hard as he could. But with his air cut off, and his body needing it now more than ever, the hit didn’t phase the other boy at all.

Just as black spots began to dance around his vision, Minho tapped out. Gally smirked before letting go of his throat.

“I knew I’d win,” he said as Minho coughed and gasped for air.

“You… wouldn’ta won if… not for those shuck… mutant arms,” Minho said, catching his breath. “Shuckface.”

“Oh, I’m not sure I like you calling me names like that,” Gally said, his brow creasing, the smirk never leaving his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth rag. “I might have to shut you up.”

“There’s no shuck way—”

“You don’t get a choice, do you?” Gally said with a click of his tongue. “You know the rules.”

Minho glared at him.

“Besides, I think you’ll like it,” Gally said, and as if to emphasize his point, he thrust his hips down. Minho couldn’t hold back the groan that intermingled with his panting breaths. A few seconds later, Gally shoved the rag into his mouth. The cloth tasted like sweat, but the hint of soap at least meant that it wasn’t as filthy as it could have been. Minho could clearly envision Gally using that rag to wipe the sweat from his body as he worked in the Glade, and the thought made his breathing pick up for a very different reason than the fight.

This wasn’t the first time they played this game. Neither could remember exactly how it started, but the fact remained that it was the best way they found to coexist in the Glade together. Neither of them liked each other and they wouldn’t pretend otherwise. But this… it wasn’t about liking.

It was about winning. A sick, twisted game that both tried their hardest to win because winner takes all and loser ends up with his hands around his ankles and a sore ass for the next week.

And this time it was Minho’s turn.

Gally leaned back and Minho longed for the pressure against his cock to return. He watched as Gally rid himself of his shirt, revealing his impressive upper body. He could have used the bigger boy’s temporary moment of weakness to his advantage, tackle him and turn the tables. But Minho knew the rules. First to tap out loses and has to face the consequences.

Gally tossed his shirt to the side and reached for the hem of Minho’s, pulling the Runner into a sitting position as he yanked the shirt up.

He was glad he hadn’t worn one of his button up shirts today, because Gally was an impatient kinda guy, and the buttons would never make it through an encounter with him. He’d learned that first hand.

Instead of removing the shirt completely, Gally stopped at his wrists and tied a crude knot. It wasn’t tight and it wasn’t secure. Minho could have gotten himself out of it without issue, but it was very clear that this was how Gally wanted things to play out.

The Builder stood, gazing down at Minho like a predatory animal.

“Shuck,” Gally said, and the look that came to his face wasn’t a smirk or a grin or a scowl. It was actually more of a… smile. A plain, almost fond sort of smile. “Have I got plans for you tonight.”

Minho rolled his eyes, but used every moment Gally allowed him to catch his breath. After a few moments, Gally reached out a hand to help him up. Minho knocked it aside and stood on his own, the bound hands only proving to be a small hinderance.

Gally stepped close and began to circle him, occasionally brushing his fingers over Minho’s bare skin, leaving behind trails of warmth.

Minho ignored the way his pants tightened as Gally grabbed hold of his hips and pressed his groin against his ass. He would never admit it to anyone—shuck, he could barely admit it to himself—but he did enjoy these moments with Gally, even when he lost. It wasn’t some sappy, silly emotional enjoyment, but a physical one. The pure, carnal nature of what they did… it just felt good.

He felt the hard length of Gally’s cock against his ass, separated by the thick cloth of their pants, as the Builder nipped at a spot near his neck. Seconds later, his lips closed over the spot and he began to suck.

Minho groaned, the sound muffled by the gag. He felt the rumble of Gally’s laugh and jerked away, only to have the Builder bite down—hard, but not enough to draw blood—and push him toward the table. Gally’s mouth left his skin with a wet pop and he was pushed down over the table, catching himself on his elbows and forearms before his face could hit. As quickly as he was pushed, his pants were pulled down halfway to his knees, exposing his ass, the motion making his balls swing between his legs.

Then nothing.

Gally wasn’t touching him at all, not with his hands or his lips or his crotch pressed tight against his ass. Nothing. Minho was half tempted to turn around and see what the slinthead was doing, but he could still feel his presence in the room, his eyes burning into him. Maybe Gally wanted to see if he’d break and turn around. Maybe it was a test of his will. And if that was the case, he wouldn’t turn around, not if he had to lay bent over the table all night.

It wasn’t a test of his will, only Gally planning his next move.

He registered the sound before the pain, the ringing  _smack_  of flesh on flesh as Gally’s open palm collided with his left asscheek. It was so surprising that he couldn’t stop the cry that escaped his throat, though much of it was dampened by the rag. He was more prepared for the second slap, and the third, but that did little to stop the stinging pain that radiated from his rear end. He held back any sound, but he could picture clearly in his mind how his skin was turning red, perfectly in the shape of Gally’s large hand.

Gally switched hands and delivered three more blows to his other cheek. Minho flinched forward with each one, his hard, dripping dick rubbing against the table. Shuck, he hoped there weren’t many maps under him. It was hard to explain away cum stains, and he doubted he’d be in any state to redo a bunch of them once this was all over.

“You know, I’m tempted,” Gally said. The next time his hands touched Minho, it wasn’t a slap, but each one caressing a globe of his ass, roughly kneading each as he spoke. “To keep this up all night. I could spank you like the disobedient little brat you are, until your ass is red. But… maybe I’ll be generous.”

Gally stepped closer, and instead of the clothed crotch he expected, Gally’s very naked dick rubbed over the cleft of his ass as Gally pushed his hands together, forcing Minho’s ass to squeeze his cock. He moaned and felt his dick twitch as Gally’s tool rubbed over his hole, the sensitive flesh tightening at the idea of being penetrated.

Shuck… Gally wouldn’t just take him like this, would he? With no lubrication and no preparation? He was a shuckface and a grade A slinthead, but he wasn’t  _cruel_.

Was he?

As if sensing Minho’s rising worry (wouldn’t that be a laugh?), Gally spoke up.

“You knew, when I was getting treated for this black eye  _you_  gave me,” A slap. “I had a look around the Med-jack hut. I know we’re not supposed to take anything without signing it out, but… I figured they couldn’t possibly use all that Vaseline, could they?”

Minho started to respond with some quip about breaking the rules, but was quickly reminded of his gagged state. All he could do was lie there in silence as Gally went on.

“Then I thought ‘should I really bother being nice to this shuckface?’ and left it,” he said, and Minho must have tensed up or something, because Gally laughed. “Don’t worry though—I won’t take you without  _something_.”

Minho quickly found out what that something was when Gally backed away and he heard a rustling sound, then felt his cheeks pulled apart as something hot and very wet pressed against his pucker. He moaned loudly at the unfamiliar sensation. He’d had fingers and a cock, but Gally had never used his tongue.

The feelings weren’t really comparable. Everything before was hard, rigid in its efforts to invade his body. This was different. The Builder’s tongue was soft and wet and he did more than simply go in and out. Gally licked around the rim and flicked his tongue inside and Minho couldn’t stop the moans that escaped him. The only thing it lacked was the deeper exploration necessary to hit that place inside of him that made his nerves burn and his vision go dark and spotted.

He wasn’t sure how long Gally kept it up, licking and sucking and slathering his hole with spit, but Minho found himself covered in sweat and panting and moaning, drooling around the gag in his mouth as his body was kept in an uncomfortable state of arousal, allowed neither to relax nor to strive closer toward that ultimate pinnacle.

If this was Gally’s revenge, it was working.

He pushed back as the felt the first finger prod his entrance, but a quick slap to his ass forced him to stop.

“Don’t move your hips,” Gally said, his tone threatening retribution if Minho disobeyed.

He stilled and the finger slipped in, agonizingly slow. To the first knuckle, the second, and finally the third, only to be pulled away just as slowly. If only the slinthead would stop playing his stupid game and twist his finger just a little bit down.

He whined as Gally continued the slow torture, beyond caring what he looked like as he fell to pieces in front of the other boy. It was another of their unspoken rules, things they had agreed upon without ever voicing them. First, they told no one what they did. Second, the first one to tap out lost and had to obey the other. Third, and perhaps the greatest display of trust between them, they never,  _ever_  held what happened against each other. Whining, moaning, groaning, shaking, and trembling… Chants and pleas to do it  _harderfasteryesyesyes._  They’d heard and seen it all from each other.

They were on level ground, because if Gally threw this in his face later, he’d have just as much ammo to fire back with.

That’s why he didn’t feel ashamed as he let out a sob—tearless, but a sob nonetheless—as Gally inserted a second finger to join the first, at an equally slow, aching pace. Minho’s legs were trembling, spread as far they could be with the pants in the way, and if not for the table and Gally behind him, he wouldn’t have been able to stand.

Gally’s fingers sunk into him, straight and just not  _enough_. He lifted his hips up, hoping to get those fingers in the right spot, but all it earned him was another spank, right to the curve where ass met thigh.

“Are you incapable of listening or do you actually like it when I hit you?” Gally said.

 _I like not being teased you, shucking slinthead_ , he thought, but it came out in a moan as Gally’s warm, calloused hand fondled his balls.

When he squeezed just a  _little_  too hard, Minho’s head hit the table between his arms with a thunk and Gally laughed louder.

A third finger pushed into him, harsh and fast and it burned, but when Gally’s fingers twisted  _down_ , Minho almost came on the spot, all thoughts of pain forgotten as pleasure ran up every nerve. Spots danced in front of his eyes and he might have screamed, his throat raw after even though little sound escaped.

He knew Gally was probably smirking as he watched Minho writhe and moan on the table, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was how good it all felt, how he’d be able to feel it all day tomorrow when he ran the Maze, sore and aching. How for the next few days, whenever he met Gally’s eyes across a room, the Builder would smirk.

Until they went again and Minho won and Gally was in his position. Then he’d be the one to smirk.

Gally’s fingers twisted down again, and then he pulled out. Minho whimpered, half for the loss of feeling and half for what he knew came next. Strong hands grabbed his hips and a foot kicked his legs apart further, the waistband of his pants digging painfully into his thighs.

Gally’s cock rubbed against his hole, slick and—

Slick? Lying  _shuckface_.

The head prodded his hole, warm and slick with stolen lubricant as Gally guided it in. The penetration burned but Minho forced himself to relax, even as every muscle, every nerve in his body was on high alert.

The Builder pulled out until just the very tip of the head was inside him, and then thrust forward, sinking inches more of his shaft into Minho’s ass. Gally’s thick cock rubbed against him maddeningly as he fell into a rhythm, despite not yet having his entire length sheathed. With every forward push, Minho’s cock rubbed against the table. It was rough at first, but soon he was dripping enough that a slick pool formed and the friction lessened.

After what felt like hours of small, controlled thrusts, Gally’s hips met his ass, his balls smacking into Minho’s and pulling another cry from the Runner’s raw throat. Gally’s hands moved from his hips to play with his nipples, twisting and pulling and bringing a brand new pain to cut through the exquisite bliss the Asian boy was in.

And it was bliss, but it wasn’t  _enough_. His cock slipped too easily through the pool of pre-cum on the table and Gally’s cock just wasn’t at the right angle to hit that spot inside of him dead on, ghosting past it with every slow plunge.

Minho was shaking all over, his head resting against the table because his arms were too weak to support him. Gally’s hands moved from his nipples over his skin, rubbing and tickling and scratching, leaving long red marks down his back. But he needed more, needed those hands elsewhere, needed them wrapped around his dick, tugging it in time with the thrusts into his ass, and then he could—

Gally’s hands returned to his hips and he leaned forward and pulled his hips up until Minho had to stand on tiptoes. His vision went  _white_  as the Builder’s cock hit just the right spot. Then again, and even though his eyes were closed, Minho saw bright bursts of light. His cock wasn’t even being touched and he was going to cum. He knew if Gally did that again, he was going to lose it, to cum on the spot and probably scream his throat raw and—

And Gally leaned back, dropping Minho’s hips back down, but this time he pulled him back, away from the table so that his cock was swinging midair in time with Gally’s thrusts.

The sound of longing he made was clear even through the gag. He shook harder, his chest rising and falling too quickly with ragged breaths. So close.  _So close_  and Gally had taken it all away. That was worse than any other torture the other boy could devise.

Gally pumped his hips with a cruel patience, each thrust and pull was smooth and slow and long, stopping just as the head of his dick started to pull Minho’s rim wider.

Minho pulled at the t-shirt tied around his wrists. If Gally was going to torment him like this, then  _shuck_  the rules. He could get himself off, wiggle his arms down while the Builder was distracted and jerk his own cock. As worked up as he was, it would only take a stroke or two to get him off, and then there was nothing Gally could do to stop it.

But as he worked at loosening the bindings, his shaking fingers and wavering concentration as additional obstacles, Gally changed tactic again. Cool air found Minho’s newly bared flesh as Gally pulled out and away, the only contact remaining being the hands on his hips, thumbs stroking the skin.

Minho ceased his escape attempts and lifted his head to look over his shoulder. Gally was smiling that same, stupid fond smile again, his eyes sweeping over Minho’s prone form, from his ass, up his back, and then finally to meet his eyes. He didn’t know what Gally found there, but the smile grew wider.

“Stand up,” he said. Minho didn’t want to obey, but knew he didn’t have much of a choice. He stood on shaking legs, not happy in the least with the fact that Gally’s hands were doing a lot of the work keeping him upright. A few strands of hair—god, he needed to get a haircut—fell into his eyes, heavy with sweat.

Gally stepped close once more, pressing his naked skin flush against Minho’s. His hard dick pressed against him as he nuzzled and nipped at his neck. A hand slid up his body to rest over his mouth.

“How many boys do you think’ll hear you cum if I take this gag out?” Gally said, his breath hot and wet on Minho’s ear. It was a stupid question. Gally knew as well as he did that the Map Room was soundproof. A boy with his ear pressed to the crack of the door might— _might_ —have been able to hear them, but anything else was impossible.

That’s one reason why they met here and nowhere else.

“What d’ya say, hmm?” Gally went on. “Want that gag out, Major Minho?”

Minho drove an elbow back, catching Gally in the ribs. The angle and his bound and aroused state robbed the blow of any real force it could have held, and Gally only laughed at his attempt.

“Guess not,” he said, then spun Minho where he stood, stopping him from falling along the way by pushing him to sit on the table. Minho hissed (or would have, if not for the gag), his used and abused ass not ready to handle the weight of his body. But just as swiftly, Gally forced him to lay back. “Hands above your head.”

Minho rolled his eyes (and made sure Gally saw), but obeyed. His breathing had slowed a little since their ‘break,’ but his heart was still pounding and he still felt like he was coming apart. Gally stood in front of him, his own skin gleaming with sweat, his pants pushed down just enough to release his cock and balls.

As soon as Minho laid down, Gally went to work ridding him of his shoes and pants, pulling them off in seconds and then forcing his legs apart, the heels of his feet resting on the edge of the table and leaving him totally exposed in front of the other Keeper.

When he was finished, Gally stepped forward, dick in hand, and guided himself into Minho once more. The Asian boy moaned and squeezed his eyes shut as Gally entered him in a single lunge. The angle—shuck, the angle. It was so much better than before. It still didn’t quite hit him dead on, but it was enough that, given time, Minho could cum from only this.

Gally’s pace quickened, and Minho laid back to take it, his eyes staying closed and his hips jutting up occasionally to meet Gally’s thrusts. Gally’s hands roamed freely over his body, over thighs and calves and ass that were nothing but muscle, meticulously carved from hours upon days upon months of Running. Over his abs and chest and biceps, also defined from his active life. But never did they wander to his cock.

Moans spilled forth freely from his throat, only to be caught by the cloth stuffed into his mouth. A few minutes into the new position, Minho felt fingers brush over his lips, and then the gag was removed. He closed his mouth and moaned through gritted teeth. His jaw ached from biting down so hard and so long, but he was glad for the freedom to move his lips and tongue.

He wrapped his legs around Gally’s waist, using the leverage to keep the Builder close and lift his hips to meet every pounding thrust. Gally seemed to have forgotten about his ‘no moving’ rule, because no slaps struck his ass, or anywhere else. His hands seemed too preoccupied gliding over his stomach and chest and—

A hand went to his throat, thumb stroking his Adam’s apple before the fingers tightened just below his chin. Minho’s eyes snapped open. Gally’s head was thrown back as he pumped himself into Minho. He wasn’t choking him hard, just enough to remind him who was in charge today. He could still gulp in small breaths, and his moans came out rougher. He knew that Gally could feel the vibrations from each one.

Minho lifted is arms and laid his hands against Gally’s wrist. The Builder was close. He was losing himself in the rhythm, the tight, hot confines of Minho’s ass as he impaled him again and again.

Gally looked down, his lip between his teeth as his eyes burned into Minho’s, then let go of his throat and pushed his bound hands back over his head. He leaned down, covering the Runner’s body with his own and pinning his cock between their stomachs.

Minho let out a loud whine, because that friction was exactly what he needed, and he started to rock his hips faster, loving the way that his dick slid against their wet skin.

And then there were lips against his, stealing his sounds of pleasure. He threw his arms around Gally’s neck and dug his fingernails into the strong muscles of the Builder’s back. He wanted to kiss back, but he can do little more than clumsily move his lips in a poor mimicry of Gally’s because it’s too much. The dick in his ass and the way his own was being pressed between them and being rubbed with every movement was too much. There was a spark being lit inside him, every nerve on the verge of igniting. All he needed was for Gally to keep it up for a little while longer, and if the Builder stopped again, Minho was sure that he’d go crazy.

But Gally didn’t stop. He didn’t pull back and leave the Runner on the edge of the precipice. His mouth left Minho’s and went to his throat, his tongue tracing a hot trail until it reached the spot where neck met shoulder and bit down, sucking hard. A hand reached up and grasped the Asian boy’s hair, pulling hard and to the side, giving him freer access to his skin. His mouth now free, Minho let loose a burst of moans with every breath. Words intermingled and grew into chants of  _theretherethere shuck YES Gally there!_

Gally moved the hand that wasn’t twisted in his hair to the small of his back and  _lifted_.

The world exploded.

He didn’t scream when he came. Quite the opposite. As that fire lit and every muscle tightened, he couldn’t’ve breathed if he wanted, much less made a sound. He arched until the only part of him touching the table was the back of his head, most of him wrapped around and supported by Gally. His balls tightened as his cock shot a load of spunk over his stomach and chest.

His body was locked in a state of euphoria, even as Gally continued to assault him, not seeming hindered in the least by the way Minho’s muscles must have been clenching down on him. It seemed like ages until his back met the table again and he was finally able to draw in a breath, a whimper escaping as he exhaled. It still felt  _so good_  and his cock twitched every time the head of Gally’s dick rubbed that place inside him, like a tiny orgasm all over again.

It didn’t last for long. Gally let go of his hair, his hands moving to his hips as he straightened up, and then he really laid into him. He pumped his hips harder and faster than before, and Minho could have swore that the table under him was shaking from the motion. He still moaned with every inward thrust, though it was no longer the perfect angle of before. He watched, transfixed, as Gally came, his hips rolling as he buried his cock as far as he could. His head thrown back, teeth gritted as he groaned.

He gave a final thrust before he collapsed on top of Minho, arms planted on either side of the Runner’s head, his face nestled in his hair. He could feel each heavy breath against his ear and bit back a whimper with every shift of the Builder’s hips, his cock still sheathed inside him.

He should have moved, pushed the other boy off, but… he didn’t really want to. Not because he liked Gally (shuck no!), but because… well, he was sure there were plenty of other reasons why.

He didn’t get to contemplate for long. Once Gally caught his breath, he lifted himself off Minho, pulling his dick out as the Runner bit back a moan. The Builder reached for his hands and untied the t-shirt, and Minho snarled as he used it to wipe his dick off.

“Slinthead,” he said, pushing himself onto his elbows now that his hands were free. Gally smirked at him, tossed the shirt on the table, and then reached out and pushed back the hair in Minho’s face. The Asian boy was taken aback at the affectionate gesture.

Until Gally spoke.

“You should cut your hair. At this rate, I’ll be able give you pigtails and make myself a set of handlebars,” he said. He paused, then shrugged. “Second thought, keep growing it.”

Minho slapped his hand away and pushed a laughing Gally back. The other Keeper shook his head and tucked himself back into his pants, then retrieved his shirt, shaking off the dust it accumulated on the floor before putting it on.

Minho didn’t move to dress, just laid back on the table, his legs dangling off the side as Gally made himself presentable again. He paused on his way to the door.

“By the way, Nick called a Gathering and it’s in…” Gally glanced at his watch. “Five minutes. Better hustle, shuckface.”

Minho threw his filthy t-shirt, the only thing in reach, at Gally’s retreating form.


End file.
